


My Body In Your Keeping

by theorchardofbones



Series: Desidero [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: First Time, M/M, Mutual Climax, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Premature Ejaculation, Trans Male Character, Trans!Prompto, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 23:11:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12143157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchardofbones/pseuds/theorchardofbones
Summary: Prompto and Noctis finally get the chance to spend the night alone together before the party's departure for Altissia.





	1. Chapter 1

There’s salt in the air; Prompto can taste it, can feel it on the wind as it stings his face.

He lifts his camera to get a shot of the ocean and feels a pair of warm arms slip around him.

They’re alone, for once — nobody batted an eye when they disappeared to the top of the lighthouse together to get some pictures. Still, he flinches a little at such an overt show of affection until he feels Noct’s body press up against his, chest curving perfectly to the shape of his back.

‘I wish we never had to leave,’ Noct murmurs, against his neck.

 _That’s_ an understatement. Since Cindy called them up to let them know the repairs had been completed on King Regis’s old ship, every second that ticks by reeks of inevitability. They’ll depart in the morning; tonight’s their last chance.

Prompto takes a few quick snaps, hardly paying attention to the view. It seems a shame to waste such a beautiful vista when he doesn’t know for sure when they’ll be back again, but the sight of the glittering blue ocean hardly moves him like it usually would.

He lets his camera hang from its strap around his neck and turns in Noct’s arms, resting their foreheads together. It isn’t long before Noct slips his hands up, slinging his arms around Prompto’s neck, and the sweet stillness of the moment devolves into heated kisses.

They might as well be miles away from anyone else, up here where nobody can see them. When Noct nudges him back until he’s against the barrier of the lighthouse, little more than a railing between him and the lethal drop behind. Prompto isn’t sure which is more dizzying — the prospect of the fall, or Noct’s lips crashing hungrily against his own.

It soon comes to an end, as it always must; Noct’s phone chimes out, and a beat later Prompto’s does too. They’re being summoned.

Noct sighs and pulls back, licking his lips as if savouring the taste on them. His eyes still closed, he lays a kiss on Prompto’s mouth, and one more, before stepping back.

The new message on Prompto’s phone is blunt and to the point — _Food’s up._ Gladio has never been one to mince words with his messages, but lately he seems to chime in at all the wrong moments. Prompto sighs, just as Noct gives a little groan after checking his own phone. No doubt the same message for him, too.

‘We better go,’ Noct says, reluctantly.

Prompto nods.

‘Guess so.’

* * *

Even with Talcott’s bubbly enthusiasm, dinner is an awkward affair. Prompto does his best to keep the conversation going, encouraging Talcott as he tells them all about the training he and Iris have been doing with Monica, but the topic soon tapers off. The reality of Noct’s imminent departure seems to weigh on everyone, as if they all know it will be a turning point. When he next sets foot in Lucis, he’ll no longer be a prince, but a king.

Noct and Ignis clear up once the meal is done; Prompto moves to help, but Gladio soon pulls him aside.

‘You’re with me,’ he says. ‘Got stuff to unload from the Regalia.’

Prompto follows without protest, knowing there’s little point in arguing. No sooner is he out the door than he hears Ignis’s voice, low but brisk, as he speaks to Noct.

‘We need to talk,’ Ignis says. ‘About you and…’

He doesn’t catch the rest of it; Gladiolus clears his throat gruffly and beckons him along before he has a chance to eavesdrop. Guiltily, Prompto falls in step beside him and they head down the slope together to the road.

The vendor is still there, as she is come rain or shine — she greets them brightly, trying to tempt them with last minute supplies before the trip.

‘Appreciate the offer,’ Gladiolus says, ‘but I think we’re all set.’

Prompto sees something extinguish in the woman’s eyes, as though she had hoped to share a little flirtatious banter with the prince’s shield before he left for good. The last time they were here, he had chatted with her at length about the local food, about the scenery, about _everything_ ; Prompto had been surprised when Gladiolus hadn’t walked away with her number, though no more than he is now when Gladio shuts down an attempt at conversation.

They grab the last few items from the trunk of the Regalia — warm weather clothes, backup weapons, provisions. Gladiolus grabs Noct’s backpack from its spot in the corner and passes it to Prompto, all but shoving it into his hands.

‘Might as well take this,’ he says. ‘You’re bunking with Prince Charmless tonight.’

He doesn’t offer anything by way of an explanation; he slings his own belongings, as well as Ignis’s, over his shoulder and marches on ahead.

Something niggles at Prompto as they head back up to the house — something about how abrupt Gladio has been lately, and his words with Ignis when he hadn’t known the others were listening. He’s seen the shield like this with Noct; to be the object of it is something else entirely.

Gladiolus is a ways ahead already, so he jogs to catch up, juggling his burden as he goes. Gladio might have longer legs but Prompto is faster; even so, he struggles to keep up with Gladio’s brisk pace.

‘Are we cool?’ he says, his voice jostling with each hurried step he takes.

Gladiolus doesn’t bother to look at him.

‘Yeah. Why wouldn’t we be?’

Prompto can’t keep up any more — he watches the gap between them steadily stretch out until it’s pointless to even try to catch up. He slows, and halts altogether, watching Gladiolus’s back until he vanishes from view.

* * *

After Talcott has gone to bed and the sun has begun its journey beneath the horizon, the rest of the cape’s residents gather outside around a campfire. There are bottles of beer and glasses of wine passed around, and Gladiolus even allows Iris a cupful of beer from his bottle after stubborn protests on her part. Prompto declines; he wants a clear head, whatever might happen tonight. As if on cue, Noct sticks to soda as well.

Even with the fire, there’s a chill in the air and Prompto shivers, huddling into his foldout chair. Without missing a beat, Noct shrugs off his sukajan and drapes it over Prompto’s shoulders.

Across the campfire, Monica and Dustin exchange knowing glances.

‘This isn’t such a bad place,’ Iris says, stretching her arms out over her head before settling once more into her seat. ‘Once you get used to the seagulls screaming all day.’

‘Gotta be better than that rooster on Uncle Cygnus’s farm,’ Gladio grumbles. ‘Every single day, oh-four-thirty, he’d bellow until everybody was up.’

‘Don’t act like you didn’t love that,’ Iris says, stretching over the arm of her chair to slug her brother in the shoulder. ‘You finally had some company when you were up freakishly early for your run.’

‘That’s me these days,’ Prompto interjects, and Iris grins in response.

Gladiolus glances away, lifting the brim of his beer to his lips.

‘We might consider turning in soon,’ Ignis says, with a glance at the time on his phone. ‘We have an early start tomorrow.

Prompto watches Noct stretch in his seat and reassemble himself into a more comfortable position. There are goosebumps on his arms from the chill of the night air, yet he had been so quick to give Prompto his jacket.

‘What time’s Cid get here?’ the prince asks.

‘Cindy’s dropping him off around nine-ish,’ Gladiolus says. ‘Doesn’t mean you get to sleep in until then, _Highness._ ’

Noct shoots him a dark look, but it’s not malicious — and for a moment it feels like everything’s back to normal, the way it had been when they set off from Insomnia that very first day.

Prompto snuggles a little deeper into Noct’s jacket, letting the lingering smell of his friend’s deodorant enshroud him.

‘I’m beat,’ Iris says, draining the last of her meagre cup of beer before clambering to her feet. ‘Don’t do anything fun just because I’m gone.’

‘No promises,’ Noct says.

Monica is the next to stand. Prompto has a feeling she could probably outdrink all of them, but it must be hard to shake her Crownsguard training — the need to stick to a regimented routine. When she leaves, Dustin goes with her.

It’s just the four of them now, and if not for the extra set of chairs around the fire it could be a night at a haven, sitting out together under the stars. Nearby, the lights glow cheerily in the windows of the house.

‘So,’ Prompto says, looking at each of their faces, lit by the flickering fire. ‘Altissia tomorrow.’

Ignis bows his head in acknowledgement; Gladiolus seems too busy staring into the flames to respond.

There’s movement at the edge of Prompto’s vision, and when he looks Noct’s hand dangles by the edge of his seat, reaching out subtly. Carefully, Prompto slips his own hand down and takes it.

‘I’m turning in,’ Gladiolus says.

Much like his sister, he empties the last of his drink before he goes, although he leaves without a witty comment and swaggers his way back to the house, his empty beer bottle hanging from his grasp and knocking against his thigh with each step.

Ignis clears his throat delicately. When he stands, Prompto expects him to make some excuse of his own; instead he eases his hand into the pocket of his jacket and withdraws something, stepping briskly around the fire until he’s at Noct’s side.

The prince looks up; Ignis murmurs something to him, intended for his ears only, and then passes over whatever had been in his grasp. He leaves with a nod in Prompto’s direction and makes his own retreat shortly after.

Prompto and Noct sit in silence for a little while, the flames crackling noisily in front of them. The prince gives Prompto’s hand a squeeze, and tugs on it, and when Prompto looks over he’s tilting his head toward toward the house.

‘Gimme a minute,’ Prompto says. ‘My legs are asleep.’

So Noct waits while Prompto stretches his legs out in front of him, and never lets go of his hand. With the borrowed jacket clutched around Prompto’s shoulders, he gets clumsily to his feet and lets Noct lead him, hand in hand, toward the steps of the porch.

Ignis left the door ajar and a faint light streams out — illumination from a single oil lamp left on the table for them to see by. All the doors into the bedrooms are closed, and Prompto can see a glow around the frame into the room under the stairs, where Ignis and Gladio have taken foldout cots for the night.

It must been a strange conversation for Noct, having Ignis awkwardly explain that they wouldn’t all be sharing a room tonight. Prompto imagines it had probably been a low point in the royal advisor’s near-lifelong career, skirting around the issue of precisely _why_ there would only be two in a room made for four.

Something had drifted into Prompto’s head about _getting it out of their system_ when Noct had relayed the conversation and the words nag at him again now, replayed perfectly in Ignis’s clipped tone.

Noct picks up the lamp and uses it to guide them along their way up the stairs. There’s sweat beading between the palms of their hands; Prompto can’t be sure if it’s his or not.

The beds are neatly made, their packed bags sitting at the end of them. While Noct sets the lamp aside, Prompto moves to his backpack and carefully sorts through until he finds a t-shirt to wear to bed. The one he finds is oversized, once white but now greying from years of use; the _Chocobo Crossing_ pattern on the font is faded and peeled.

He doesn’t need to ask Noct to turn around while he changes; Noct does it by force of habit. Somehow it feels silly to repeat the same old routine now, after everything that’s happened between them. 

Noct is a little less shy about undressing. Prompto watches the prince slip out of his shirt and push his jeans down his slim hips, letting them fall to the floor. He sees Noct’s pale shoulders in the dancing light of the lamp, and for the first time he really _looks_ at them; tracks down his spine to the scar tissue at the base of it, a souvenir of the attack that almost killed him as a child.

There’s a moment of awkwardness between them once they’re both changed. Noct’s bed stands between them, and Prompto hugs the borrowed jacket to his chest before reaching out to return it.

‘Thanks,’ he says, and Noct gives a little shrug.

‘Don’t mention it.’

Prompto isn’t sure what he’s supposed to do — if he should climb into Noct’s bed, if he should try to lie down appealingly on his own. The thought of trying to arrange himself into some sort of an alluring pose is enough to make him smirk, and Noct looks at him questioningly.

‘What’s so funny?’

Prompto shakes his head.

‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘Just a little nervous.’

He expects Noct to laugh, to put on a show of bravado, but he just lifts his hand and cards it through his hair.

‘Me too.’

It seems ridiculous when they’ve known each other for so long, seen each other in various states of undress countless times in the locker room at school or changing at Noct’s place before heading out, that they should be so shy around each other now.

Prompto lowers himself to sit at the edge of his bed and watches as Noct moves around his own and sits down on it. They’re just a little apart now, knee to knee.

‘What’d Iggy give you?’ Prompto asks. ‘Outside?’

Noct looks blank for a moment before the lightbulb goes off over his head. He twists, leaning back across his bed to where he discarded his jeans and riffling through the pockets. He’s back a moment later, dangling something from his grasp.

‘ _Condoms?_ ’ Prompto blurts.

Heat rushes to his cheeks and he wonders who _doesn’t_ know every last detail of their private lives.

Noct cradles the foil packets in his lap and looks down at his hands. He’s uncharacteristically shy — not his usual reservation, the impenetrable shell that comes up sometimes, but a sort of vulnerability that makes Prompto see him in a different light.

Noct’s just as nervous as he is.

‘You… wanna be the big spoon?’ Prompto suggests, glancing toward his pillows where they’re fluffed up and waiting.

While he climbs into bed, Noct shuts off the lamp, leaving the room with just the glow of the moonlight through the window between their beds.

He slips in next to Prompto and pulls at his arm, tugging him over onto his other side until he has his back to Prompto’s chest.

‘You’re the better big spoon,’ Noct says, pulling Prompto’s arm around him.

Noct’s skin is cold; his legs are like ice as they brush against Prompto’s. For a while they just lie there, rigid, and Prompto starts to wonder if maybe the whole thing was a bad idea.

Tentatively, he lays a hand on Noct’s hip and feels his friend jump slightly from the contact.

‘Sorry,’ he whispers.

‘No,’ Noct says, hurriedly. ‘It’s… It’s okay.’

The window is open a little; outside, an owl gives a piercing cry that cuts through the night. Prompto finds himself listening, really listening, and he can hear the swaying rhythm of the tide far below the cliff. Above that, closer, he can hear Noct’s breathing — shallow, like his own.

He nestles his chin into the crook of Noct’s neck. Turns his head, pressing a kiss against the cool skin of his throat. The bed creaks just slightly as Noct shifts to give him a better angle.

Noct’s hand finds his, twining their fingers together. He’s trembling — but no, maybe that’s Prompto. They’re so close Prompto can’t tell any more.

His lips are dry and cracked, he realises belatedly; he wets them and nudges another kiss into Noct’s throat. This time Noct turns all the way over until they’re chest to chest, and for a little while all Prompto can do is stare up into his eyes, where they gleam in the moonlight.

He’s immeasurably relieved when Noct closes that last hair’s breadth between them, their mouths meeting. The prince’s lips are cold and Prompto thinks there’s sea salt on Noct’s tongue when it finally slips between his lips.

He feels a cool touch snake up his thigh — Noct’s finger, tracing up his skin, where it hooks over the waistband of his briefs and tugs down a little, just enough to serve as a proposition. Noct sits up, and their eyes meet.

It’s an embarrassingly long time before Prompto realises he’s waiting for permission.

Swallowing, Prompto nods; he tilts his legs apart, and Noct takes the cue to push the weight of the blanket aside and climb astride him, slipping a hand down between their bodies while his lips meet Prompto’s once more.

Where fingers meet the curls of soft blond hair at the juncture of Prompto’s thighs, the contact send ripples of pleasure through him. His breath hitches and he arches his body, lifting his hips toward Noct’s tentative touch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Cam, back with an update three months later almost to the day!
> 
> I struggled for a long time with this. In the end, I scrapped it all yesterday and wrote it from scratch. All it took was switching things up a little bit.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Prompto is sprawled out on the bed in his oversized, faded shirt, his blonde hair all mussed up. Noct’s pretty sure his friend has never looked more beautiful.

He knows Prompto would deny it, of course — would get all shy and hide away behind his hands. Noct is almost tempted to say it, just to see the constellation of freckles across Prompto’s nose get lost amid the pink flush of his skin.

He contents himself with just picturing it as he guides his hand down further beneath the band of Prompto’s underwear, and when his fingertips dip down into the wetness he finds there he gets to see heat flood Prompto’s cheeks after all.

He’s not even sure where to start with this — it’s so different than the sexting, or that night at the motel. They have time now to explore each other, time to figure out what they each like, and yet he’s almost terrified by the world of possibilities ahead of him.

He teases Prompto about this stuff all the time, but the truth is… it’s new for him, too.

Noct must be doing something right, at least, as Prompto’s hips jolt upwards mid-stroke and he bites down on his lip like he’s trying to stifle any noise he might make.

Noct can picture the exact spot where Prompto’s cheek normally dimples in when he smiles, but it’s smooth now; his eyes are screwed shut, his eyelashes fluttering, and when Noct dips his fingers further down he sees his friend’s brow furrow in concentration.

‘You look so serious,’ Noct says.

Prompto’s eyes open, the blue of them almost black where he lies in shadow. Noct watches them jump from his glance, to his lips, to some point far away in the corner.

‘Still nervous,’ Prompto murmurs.

Noct slips his free hand up to cup Prompto’s jaw and gently tilts it so that they’re eye to eye again. He leans close, pressing a kiss first to Prompto’s cheek, then to his lips.

‘It’s just me,’ he says.

Prompto gives a little nod, and whether that’s agreement or a show of resolve, Noct takes it as a cue to kiss him again.

He seems to relax, little by little, and Noct feels Prompto’s thighs come up to rest on either side of his waist. They press into him slightly, a silent nudge of encouragement, and when Noct gently slides two fingers within, there’s a little groan of pleasure from Prompto that damn sure sounds like things are going in the right direction.

Noct’s slow and careful, altering his pace to meet Prompto’s cues, and for a while there’s just the slick sounds of his fingers between Prompto’s thighs and his soft little moans of pleasure.

Prompto’s hand moves down between them; Noct pulls back enough to make room, and when he glances down he sees Prompto touching himself. It’s probably the hottest thing in the world, especially when he looks up and sees Prompto’s face contorted, tongue flitting out to wet his lips.

It makes Noct feel particularly brave to see his friend like that — he leans close, mouthing kisses into the curve of Prompto’s neck, and moves up by his ear.

‘I wanna go down on you,’ he says, before nipping Prompto’s ear.

He can’t see his friend’s face, but his nod seems more than eager enough.

It seems almost a shame to slip his fingers free, but then he watches Prompto wriggle up the bed a little and pull his legs up and to the side, giving a view of his ass that isn’t too shabby at all as he yanks his briefs down.

Noct helps, with trembling hands, as Prompto lowers his legs back down and rests them to either side, knees bent. Once Prompto seems comfortable, Noct crawls down the bed so that he’s kneeling by the end of it and drops on all fours, starting out with a pattern of kisses up the inside of Prompto’s thigh.

Soft skin leads him on a trail upward, but he doesn’t follow it all the way; he stops and skips past to Prompto’s belly, leaving a kiss on the thatch of hair there, and moves his hand up to hook under Prompto’s knee.

‘This okay?’ he asks, gently nudging Prompto’s leg aside.

A sort of croak comes out of Prompto’s mouth; he swallows and gives a nod, trying again.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘It’s okay.’

Noct lowers himself down again, picking the kisses up again on Prompto’s leg, starting by his knee. He takes a torturously slow path, taking his time and covering every inch he can find with his lips. When he can feel Prompto start to quiver with anticipation, he lets his tongue take over, tracing a stripe up the inside of Prompto’s thigh.

He has every intention of teasing Prompto some more, but then his lips brush the wetness between Prompto’s legs and all bets are off. He dips his tongue into it, savouring the taste, and when Prompto’s thighs fall away to let him in close he skirts his tongue inside, all but burying his face in the curls of blonde hair.

He gives Prompto’s thigh a squeeze; feels Prompto’s hand come to knot through his hair. Noct’s pretty far gone in his own enjoyment but he’s pretty sure when Prompto tugs insistently at his hair that it means  _ keep going. _

He keeps it up, taking on a more sure rhythm, and in turn Prompto’s hips move to meet him; Prompto’s hand comes down, again, and Noct glances up to see his fingers brushing over himself at a heady, frantic pace.

‘Noct…’ 

There’s so much urgency in Prompto’s tone, in the hitch of his hips; Noct can feel his dick throbbing almost uncomfortably, neglected and eager, and he knows he could touch himself but he  _ can’t. _

He needs Prompto — needs Prompto’s hands on him, needs Prompto’s thighs around him, needs to be  _ inside him _ — so bad that it feels like he’ll explode.

Somehow, maybe by the grace of the Astrals themselves, Noct manages to screw his eyes shut and concentrate enough to dial it back. There’ll be time for that — all night. For now, Prompto tastes too good to give up.

It isn’t long before he feels Prompto contract against the coaxing of his tongue; before he flits his eyes up to see Prompto’s rhythm falter. His friend is breathing so heavily now, head thrown back on the pillow, and Noct wonders with a rush if he’s close.

He never gets to find out — Prompto tugs at his hair, up and away, and Noct pulls back to look at him with every worry that he’s done something wrong.

His mouth is still thick with Prompto’s taste when his friend urges him upwards. When Noct slips his tongue between Prompto’s lips, Prompto’s tongue meets his as if greedily taking in the taste.

Legs wrap around Noct’s waist, pulling him down; Prompto’s never this pushy, but Noct doesn’t complain. His hips meet his friend’s, his erection suddenly pinned between them, and when Prompto grinds his hips upwards it’s all Noct can do not to spin into oblivion.

‘I want you,’ Prompto says against Noct’s lips.

Noct is shaking as he pulls back to tug his underwear down, and Prompto is no less frantic. Together, somehow, they manage to get it down his thighs and that’s where they stay as Prompto grips him by the flank and urges him close again.

It’d be so easy to forget the condom — they almost do, in their haste, but then Noct reaches over and fumbles around until his fingertips hit the foil and he uses his teeth to tear open one of the packets, almost dropping all of them in his haste.

He’s practiced this before, and he’d figured he’d gotten the hang of it after a while. It’s a different matter, however, when his fingers are slick, when he can’t seem to stop shaking, and when Prompto’s just lying there chewing his lip as he watches expectantly. He can barely even get it over himself the first time he tries, and the second time it just slips right off; he’s more than a little relieved when Prompto gently grips his wrist.

‘Here,’ Prompto murmurs. ‘I can help.’

Noct’s almost jealous that Prompto can be so calm as he takes the condom out of his grasp and tugs the opening wide with his fingers. Prompto’s glance is intent, like this is just a problem to be solved, and he seems to know what he’s doing as he tugs it down over the head of Noct’s erection, guiding it carefully downwards.

Maybe it’s the contact — maybe it’s the heat — maybe it’s the way Prompto chews his lip as he concentrates. Whatever it is, Noct doesn’t think he can hold on any more, and he can barely choke out words before pleasure explodes through him, his vision going white.

For a little while, it’s the most blissful Noct has ever been; then reality starts to creep back in around the edges, leaving him cold and miserably embarrassed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he blurts, glancing down between them.

At least the condom was most of the way on; it’s filled with the product of his over-excitement, rather than dripping all over Prompto’s hands.

Prompto’s grinning, though, as he lifts a hand and tilts Noct’s face up to look at him.

‘Hey,’ he says, touching their foreheads together. ‘It’s okay. We got all night.’

Prompto slips the condom off and twists the top of it into a knot, leaning away so that he can toss it into the trash. Noct makes a mental note to empty it in the morning, before anybody else is up.

‘So, uh,’ Noct says, sitting up and carding a hand self-consciously through his hair. ‘What now?’

Prompto lies back, lifting a hand to press to Noct’s chest. His skin is warm, and he brushes his fingers gently down Noct’s torso, resting his hand at last on his hip.

‘I dunno,’ Prompto says, with a pretty convincing effort at sounding careless. ‘You could… go down on me again?’

He’s got a shy little smile on his lips when Noct meets his eye, and if Noct even needed any encouragement — which he  _ definitely  _ does not — that would be it. Noct’s pretty damn sure Prompto might even be doing it on purpose when he tilts his head to the side and parts his legs, playing his hand down over his stomach and letting it sit by his thigh.

Noct takes a moment to tug his underwear the rest of the way off, dropping it on the floor. He sits for a moment with Prompto’s leg resting against his back; he moves his hand to cover Prompto’s where it sits, then guides Prompto’s hand until it’s between his own legs.

He doesn’t have the guts to say it, but it had been way too hot when Prompto had touched himself. He’s pretty sure he can work himself back to readiness with a little encore.

He lowers himself down again, and as tempting as it is to skip past all the teasing this time he makes sure he doesn’t, leaving gentle, coaxing kisses on Prompto’s legs until he’s trembling anew. Only then — and only after pausing to suck a little love bite into the inside of Prompto’s thigh — does he move in, letting his tongue pick up where he left off earlier.

It’s easier this time to be slow and lazy about it, to make the most out of it. Any time Noct feels Prompto spooling up with tension, he lets up and slows right down; the more he does this, the shorter the intervals between Prompto tensing up again.

Prompto’s starting to get impatient — needy. The next time Noct lets up, Prompto keeps on stroking his fingers over himself like he wants to tip over the edge, and Noct nips at his thigh to stop him.

‘Not yet,’ he murmurs, when Prompto shoots him an indignant little glance.

‘You know I can keep going, right?’ Prompto says, cocking an eyebrow. ‘Multiple orgasms. Totally a thing.’

Noct feels heat flood his face and he turns his face in toward Prompto’s thigh to hide it; Prompto rewards him by laughing and gently tousling his hair.

‘Come up here,’ Prompto says. When Noct dares to meet his eye again, he looks somber; Prompto pats the pillow beside him and shifts over a little, making room.

Noct crawls back up the bed, scrambling out from between Prompto’s thighs as he goes, and lays himself out along the edge of the bed. He rests his head on the pillow and his hand on Prompto’s hip, while his friend props him up on his elbow and leans close.

Noct thinks maybe Prompto’s going to say something — something painfully poignant that makes his heart ache more than it already does, if that’s even possible. Instead, his friend dips in and kisses him, and it’s soft and gentle and sweet and even though it only lasts for a few heartbeats, it makes Noct’s head spin.

Noct’s in a daze when they part; it doesn’t help when Prompto lifts a hand and gently tucks a strand of Noct’s hair behind his ear, thumb brushing over his jaw as he goes.

‘It’s hard to trust myself sometimes,’ Prompto says. ‘Like… that I didn’t make all of this up. That you’re really  _ here, _ with me.’

Noct’s heart thuds heavy but true in his chest, as if to say  _ I’m here. I’m really here. _

‘I guess…’ Noct says, trailing off. He twists the hem of Prompto’s tee around his forefinger absently, then lets it go. ‘I guess I feel like that a little, too. Like I’ll wake up and this’ll all be a dream.’

Prompto’s chewing his lip, his eyes turned downwards; Noct watches the moonlight catch the blonde of his eyelashes, turning them silver.

He has a horrible, sinking feeling that he knows what Prompto’s thinking — what he wants to say. It’s been playing across his mind, too.

Rather than give in, Noct slips his hand beneath Prompto’s shirt, careful not to move too far upwards, and winds his arm around to hold him. When Prompto settles himself down, head resting on the pillow, Noct budges closer until they’re nose to nose, forehead to forehead.

‘We don’t have to fool around,’ Noct says. ‘We can just… talk.’

Prompto shakes his head.

‘Done talking,’ he replies. ‘All I want is you.’

Prompto moves first, tilting his head to the side and leaning forward. His kiss is chaste at first, and it feels like it could stay that way for an eternity and Noct would be happy, but little by little it grows more urgent, more fierce. Noct feels his heart pick up in turn, feels the hairs stand up all along his skin like he’s been bewitched.

Prompto’s hand finds him; slips between his legs and grasps him. That contact is more than enough to send a jolt of pleasure, of need through him, and when Noct hitches his hips forward he realises he’s already hard again under Prompto’s touch.

Prompto plays his thumb over the head of it, teasingly at first, but it’s as though neither of them can avoid the pull of each other before long. He shifts closer, bringing his pelvis in almost flush with Noct’s, and lifts a leg to drape it over one of his.

He’s stroking Noct now, hand slick and urgent, and Noct feels the tip of his erection bump between Prompto’s thighs with each movement. The look on Prompto’s face says he’s getting off this way, too — grinding against Noct’s dick while he drags his fist up and down it — and Noct knows that if he isn’t careful they’ll have a repeat of last time on their hands.

‘Stop, wait,’ he gasps, putting a hand on Prompto’s chest.

His friend looks upset at first — like he thinks this is all wrong, that he took it too far — but Noct hurriedly shakes his head.

‘Lemme get the… Hold on.’

He pulls away, reluctantly, and when he tears one of the foils free and settles back beside Prompto, his friend watches the movement of his hands eagerly.

‘How do you wanna do this?’ Noct says, as he rips it open. ‘You wanna be on top or, uh…?’

While Prompto deliberates, Noct tugs the condom on over himself — mercifully, this time he gets it all the way on with no accidents. It’s tight and it’s not wholly comfortable, and he’d give anything to be able to go without it — to be able to feel Prompto against him, nothing between them — but that’s not happening.

‘Will you go on top?’ Prompto says shyly.

Noct merely nods.

Prompto lays himself out, hips parted, and Noct climbs between his legs. For a little while Noct kneels and waits, as if at the precipice; he doesn’t know if he should say something, or if the time for words is steadily dwindling.

He settles for lowering himself down, arms resting to either side of Prompto’s chest, and lays a kiss on his lips.

Prompto’s hands find Noct’s hips; they guide him, careful but sure, until their bodies are aligned. When Prompto pulls his thighs up to either side, pinning Noct’s hips once more, Noct pushes forward until they’re flush.

Prompto’s tight and wet and warm and Noct has to stop and concentrate harder than he ever has in his life; has to fight every urge to give in to that climax threatening to obliterate him. When the gush of his pulse has dwindled down to a muffled roar, and when his limbs finally stop trembling, he pulls back and pushes in once more, feeling Prompto’s body move to welcome him.

With the next thrust, Noct feels Prompto’s legs wrap around his waist. He has just enough room that he can keep moving, still at a cautious pace, but now his chest rests on Prompto’s and he’s pretty sure he can feel the drumbeat of his friend’s heart against him.

Maybe it’s his own.

Is there even a difference any more?

His breath catches as he glides down against Prompto again, and he sees Prompto’s face contort in pleasure, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. He feels a ripple of pleasure go through Prompto — feels him tighten, feels Prompto drag blunt nails down his back — and he’s so dangerously close he’s not even sure he wants to stop.

Prompto looks up at him through pale lashes and his body stills, his hand gripping gently at Noct’s upper arm.

It’s like this, eyes locked together, that Noct finally manages to calm down, his heart slowing from an erratic cacophony to a more stable rhythm.

Noct lets Prompto dictate the movement from there, keeping as still as he can as Prompto moves his hips in slow circles against him. It’s tantalisingly slow, almost painfully so, but Noct’s less likely to get ahead of himself with Prompto in charge. It even seems like Prompto likes having a little control — every time Noct lets out a gasp or feels his erection twitch, he sees a hint of a smirk cross Prompto’s lips.

‘You’re having fun teasing me, aren’t you?’ Noct says, narrowing his eyes.

Prompto shuts him up by pulling all the way off him and sliding all the way back down in one swift thrust.

‘Maybe,’ he retorts. ‘I think you like it, too.’

Noct isn’t arguing — he’s not doing much beyond panting, really, as Prompto picks up his infuriating little rhythmic circles again.

He feels Prompto’s hand, slippery with sweat, grip his wrist; feels him guide it down between them. The only thing to tell that Prompto’s struggling to keep in control is the trembling of his fingers and the way his breath shudders as Noct’s touch first brushes against him.

It’s not difficult to figure out what’s good when Prompto’s whole body advertises it every time Noct hits him just right. Between the little gasps and the jolting of his hips, Noct knows just where to touch, and how fast or slow, and it isn’t long before Prompto’s the one with a heaving chest and twitching hips.

‘Take over,’ Noct says, leaning down to peck him on the lips.

He braces himself to either side of his friend as Prompto’s hand replaces his between them; while he picks up where Noct left off, Noct leverages his weight on his arms and takes up a steady, smooth rhythm of thrusts.

Prompto can barely keep his eyes open for all his writhing about, but in the rare moments their glances meet, Noct feels something jolt inside his chest. It’s like it’s not even about the sex any more — like he’s lost in those blue eyes, in the spray of freckles across pale cheeks, in the lips all swollen and pink with desire.

Noct’s almost surprised when he sees Prompto throw his head back suddenly, shuddering; as if his life counted on it, Noct hurries his thrusts until he’s crashing over the edge too, Prompto tightening rhythmically around him to ride him through his orgasm.

It’s not until what feels like a lifetime after, when Noct drops his face into the curve of Prompto’s neck, that he feels a pulse of pain in his shoulder; Prompto had been gripping him so tightly, digging his nails in as he found his climax, and Noct didn’t even notice.

‘Gods,’ Prompto whispers, heaving out a long, satisfied sigh. _‘Gods.’_

All Noct can do is let out a shaky little laugh.

‘Yeah,’ he says, mouthing a gentle kiss into Prompto’s throat.

<hr>

It’ll be dawn soon. Noct hasn’t slept.

He had meant to, of course, not long after that first time; when they had found themselves curled up together under the covers, however, Prompto had wriggled just a little against Noct’s hips, and when Noct’s body had responded in turn Prompto had turned over, pulling him into a flurry of frantic kisses that had ended predictably.

Twice, three times. There had nearly been another, but then Noct had been too sore to the touch; they had teased another climax out of Prompto with Prompto’s fingers and Noct’s mouth, and even though Prompto had said it didn’t count as a fourth time, it totally did.

Noct’s eyes are raw as he stares up at the ceiling, watching the blue glow of the moon subside to the first pink hues of the dawn. He knows he should try to get a little sleep, at least, but he can’t bear to close his eyes when Prompto’s right there, peaceful in slumber.

Noct wonders what Prompto dreams about, that he has the most subtle of smiles on his lips.

He feels an impatient, childish urge to wake his friend — to spend their last few hours together awake, whiling it away by saying all the things they should have said long ago. He can’t help but feel like there won’t be another chance.

He lets Prompto sleep, though, and watching him lie there, safe and content, is rewarding in its own way.

Carefully, so as not to disturb his sleeping friend, Noct leans close and touches a gentle kiss to his forehead. When Prompto stirs just slightly, Noct pulls the covers up over him and snuggles in beside him, closing his eyes at last.

Just a couple more hours together — precious few. Then they sail to Altissia, and everything changes. Forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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